


heart’s hard of hearing, head's full of sand

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Crack, F/F, Humor, Pre-PP3, Romance, Smut, panicky beca as usual gets into some hijinks with amy, the idea stuck with me and i couldn't let it go, this could very much be considered crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 12:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: It's not quite one year after trading Barden for New York, but Amy is unreliable, Beca is a scapegoat, and Chloe is a part-time model, but not the clothed kind.or, Beca ends up helping out at a late-night art class and oh my God, that’s definitely her roommate-slash-best friend. Naked.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 51
Kudos: 179





	heart’s hard of hearing, head's full of sand

**Author's Note:**

> **[GIFSET HERE](https://beca-mitchell.tumblr.com/post/645051079542865920/hearts-hard-of-hearing-heads-full-of-sand-11)**.
> 
> i honestly don't know what the fuck this is dksfskdf, sorry!! unbeta'd. title from kings of leon's "echoing".
> 
> I actually thought about thinking of this as the start of my pre-PP3 fwb headcanon...thinking...thinking...

They’ve barely been living in New York for half a year. Beca still hates the L train. She hates walking the extra ten minutes to take the M train even more, especially with how fucking cold it gets. Beca hates their half-broken radiator and the lack of an actual bathroom with a door and, well, _privacy_.

But she can’t say she hates the company. Beca knows how lucky she is to have met such amazing people during her time at Barden. And to think that she had initially wanted to move to L.A. right away after one year at Barden.

She wouldn’t be here now, sharing a bed with her best friend while their other good friend snores heavily from a bed separated by a row of hanging clothes.

Well, _usually_ Amy would be snoring.

Beca shifts, staring up at the ceiling. She crosses her arms, careful not to jostle the comforter too much lest she wakes Chloe who is slumbering peacefully. Beca is additionally careful not to brush her hand against Chloe, not wanting to startle her. Or to be weird. Beca would hate to be weird.

(It isn’t weird, not really. It could never be _weird_ even if Chloe somehow manages to take Beca’s breath away just by existing sometimes.

All the time.

Whatever.)

Sometimes it’s _hard_ , sleeping next to Chloe. Chloe sleeps like a starfish most nights and it’s all Beca can do not to just roll right off the edge of the bed and smack her head spectacularly on her nightstand. Instead, Beca first slept ramrod straight, arms pinned to her side, confined to the very edge of the bed lest Chloe’s stray limbs wrap her up and draw her in resulting in an awkward situation the next morning.

That had been at the beginning. Probably the first month or so of living together and sleeping in the same bed. Not once did Beca consider the alternative of sharing a bed with Amy because she never reached that level of desperation. She adapted—she’s gotten pretty good at that. Adapting, that is. Not desperation. She’s good at just accepting that sometimes Chloe’s palm will land right on her stomach, or Chloe’s foot will tickle her calf, or sometimes Chloe’s hair even ends up in her mouth.

Chloe is a starfish.

Beca adapts.

It’s not a thing.

Tonight isn’t particularly hard. Beca _finally_ gets her brain to stop going through melodies and the sound of Chloe’s voice retelling a very lame joke. She settles down, eyes firmly shut and she can just _sense_ that she’s about to doze off when—

Her phone buzzes obnoxiously from the side table. Beca stifles a groan, but keeps her eyes shut. She had _just_ been dozing off. Determined to get back to _that_ (and totally envious about how Chloe manages to sleep through anything and everything while also religiously getting up at 6:30 every morning), Beca steadies her breathing, hoping that whoever it is just gives up and tries calling another person.

Beca’s heart sinks when her phone begins buzzing again, somehow more obnoxious than before. She heaves a sigh and reaches out blindly to tug it from its perch, pulling the device to her face so she can peer at the screen.

 **AMY—** (2) Missed Calls

Beca opens their text messages quickly, concerned even though she knows she’s probably about to regret the rest of her night.

 **Beca  
** _what’s up? i was sleeping  
_ _wtf youre not home  
_ _where are you?_

 **Amy  
** _Parsons  
_ _bring duct tape_

 **Beca  
** _parsons? as in the school??_  
_why duct tape  
_ _what is going on  
_ _AMY_

 **Amy  
** _yes come quick_

 **Beca  
** _amy why  
_ _amy. please  
_ _amy??  
_ _fine._  
_you’re paying for the taxi though i’m not fucking_  
_taking the l train, not even for you_

***

Beca shivers, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. She kind of wishes she put on some leggings or something under her flannel pajama pants and maybe brushed her hair because there are still people milling about around at Union Square dressed to the nines because they have lives—one of those things that Beca evidently can’t be bothered to get even though she’s been living in New York for the past few months. Not that Chloe and Amy haven’t tried. Beca’s still getting used to being a whole adult.

A whole adult who is apparently still babysitting her friend. Beca clutches the roll of duct tape tighter in her hand also wishing she brought a bag, but she hadn’t been thinking properly.

Sighing, Beca walks up and down the sidewalk in front of the glassy building, looking for any kind of entrance that would allow her to even begin to find Amy. She’s not even sure the main building entrance is open, now highly conscious of the fact that she has a roll of duct tape around her wrist while cars drive past her on Fifth Avenue.

**Beca  
** _where the fuck are you??_

**Amy**  
_Just come through the main doors_  
_i’ll come get u_

Beca’s brow furrows. She shivers and envies Chloe immensely right now, Chloe who is warm and cuddled up against Beca’s pillow after Beca had to reluctantly leave the warmth of her bed to bail Amy out of whatever trouble this...is. She pushes through the glass doors and is immediately tugged the rest of the way in by Amy.

“Where did you come from?” Beca gasps, colliding into Amy as Amy begins tugging her along the corridor. “What is going on?”

“So you know how I’m trying to get my Fat Amy Winehouse act going, right?”

“I thought you were joking, but yes.”

“Well, I’ve needed some materials to get me going and I started seeing this guy who works here part-time—”

“Aren’t you dating Bumper?” Beca demands, remembering very clearly that Amy had nearly _gloated_ when Jesse ended things with Beca a few short weeks ago because she and Bumper would now be the longest running couple from their “Barden Crew”.

“Oh, no, we broke up like a week ago. Keep up, Beca.”

“What? I didn’t know! Wait—” Beca yelps, colliding into Amy once again as Amy fiddles with the door handle. When Amy pushes the door open, Beca blinks, taking in the bright lighting of what appears to be a studio or a storage room. It’s...messy, to say the least.

“What’s this?” Beca demands.

“You need to help me put some of this stuff back together,” Amy points out, directing Beca towards a pile of broken crates.

“Is this art?” Beca asks, half-horrified. She doesn’t know anything about fine art, preferring music over the crafts, but she can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought of somebody’s art being destroyed.

“No,” Amy clarifies, dragging some boxes. “They’re just staging things. But I did break a few easels.”

“How?” Amy stares at her pointedly from behind a canvas. “Nevermind,” Beca says quickly, dropping the box she had been attempting to drag. “Amy, seriously? Right here? Where is this guy anyway? Shouldn’t he be helping you?”

“He’s afraid of getting fired.”

“What if we get _arrested_?” Beca hisses. “We shouldn’t even be in here alone. We’re not students here.”

“Beca, you’re such a—”

Whatever Beca is, she doesn’t get to hear it because they both freeze, hearing the sound of male voices echoing down the hall, followed by fast footsteps. “Shit!” Beca hisses, turning wide eyes to Amy. “No,” she whisper-yells when Amy turns to run. “No, don’t you _dare_ —” Beca trips, stumbling over a broken slate. She crashes to the floor just as the door flies open and Amy escapes out the other set of side-doors.

“Hey! What are you doing here?!”

Beca is going to _kill_ Amy.

***

“Don’t I get a phone call?” Beca asks.

“The owner of the studio has to decide whether to press charges.”

“Well where are they?” Beca wants so badly to call Chloe or run away. Or both. But Chloe’s probably sleeping and Beca hasn’t done cardio in a really long time.

Heels click along the floor behind her. Beca spins in her seat.

“Annie Friedman. I see you’ve caused some chaos in my studio.” She reaches out to shake Beca’s hand, which Beca accepts warily. “I teach here during the day. Run night courses a few times a week.”

“Sorry,” Beca apologizes quickly. “I swear, it was all my friend. I—I don’t know how she got in. Or why she was even here. She called me and I thought it was an emergency.”

Annie gestures at the security guards to leave. “How about you make it up to me?”

“How? Money?”

She shakes her head. “Well, let’s say you help me with a few nights a week with the evening classes I run for the public. Make up the property damage you’ve done here. I probably need a more reliable assistant anyway.”

Beca heaves a sigh. “I _swear_ , it wasn’t me.”

“I mean, it sure beats getting arrested. Or me pressing fines.”

Beca groans. “This is extortion. Besides, I don’t know anything about art, with all due respect. I highly doubt I’d actually be helpful. I just make music.”

“Well you’re definitely an artist in my eyes. What’s your name?”

“...Beca.”

“Beca. What do you say? Just one set of classes for my round of new students. It’ll be nothing.”

***

“Where have you been?” Chloe mumbles tiredly as Beca slips back into bed after the quickest shower of all showers. Beca listens carefully for any signs of life from Amy’s side of the room.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Beca whispers harshly.

Chloe yawns but tucks her palm under her cheek, eyes trained intently on Beca. “I’m listening.”

“It’s really nothing...just...I have to do something for Amy because she messed up and I took the fall. Remember when I punched a guy in our first year?”

Chloe laughs quietly. “Did you punch a guy again?”

“No,” Beca grumbles.

Chloe reaches across the tiny distance between them to place her hand on Beca’s upper arm, rubbing soothingly. It’s an oddly intimate gesture and makes Beca stop breathing for a moment. “You’re a good roommate, you know?” Chloe whispers slowly through a yawn.

It takes Beca a long moment to respond as she gazes up at the ceiling, lost in thought. “Thank you,” she finally replies, turning bravely to face Chloe in the darkness. She is disappointed to note that Chloe is already asleep again, palm still warm against Beca’s skin.

***

Beca politely greets each person that enters, checking off their registration on her clipboard as she goes. It’s a larger group of people than Beca would have thought for seven o’clock on a Friday night, all of them varying ages. Annie nods at Beca approvingly. “The model will be here soon, but don’t worry about checking her in.”

“What else do you need me to do?”

“Just monitor and make sure nobody’s falling too far behind. Give materials when needed. Answer questions.” At Beca’s wary expression, Annie nudges her. “Don’t worry. When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, the most difficult question you’ll get is where the bathroom is. And maybe the occasional inquiry as to when this class ends.”

“So you just jump right in? Get people to draw models?”

“This is an intermediate class. Most people are always eager to figure out the ins-and-outs of drawing the human body. Figuring out where the skeleton is. The details of skin. If the model is wearing any jewelry. You’ll see.”

Beca is moderately intrigued, interested in the way Annie talks about art in the same way Beca thinks about music. She wanders around slowly and nods politely at each student that walks past her, wondering if they can immediately tell she’s a fraud of some sorts. _Hi, I’m Beca and I know nothing about art but I did help my friend vandalize the studio so here I am. Do you need a pencil?_ She is amusing herself with her own thoughts when the door swings open again, signalling another student. Beca holds her container of pencils, eyes flicking towards the student when she locks eyes with an extremely familiar pair of blue eyes.

_Chloe?_

It’s definitely Chloe and Beca lifts her hand instinctively to wave Chloe over to sit at an easel or desk near her. It’s so natural—of _course_ Chloe would be taking art classes. It just feels like something that Chloe would do that Beca doesn’t even question it once.

Before she can say anything, like Chloe’s name, or ask why Chloe suddenly looks incredibly panicked at the sight of her, Annie interrupts them all by clearing her throat to introduce Chloe. “Hi all, this will be our model for most of our sessions, Chloe.”

Beca’s ears start ringing.

_Chloe? Model?_

It’s then that Beca notes that Chloe is wearing a robe and has a small bag over her shoulder where beca can see the sleeve of a sweater poking out from it. Beca hovers closer to Chloe, mouth slightly agape because her brain is still putting two and two together.

Chloe slips her robe over one shoulder, about to take it off.

_Oh._

“ _Chloe_ ,” Beca squeaks, dropping the pencils she’s holding in her hand.

Chloe jolts, shrugging her robe back over her shoulders so she can quickly bend down to help Beca pick up the pencils. She catches Beca eye and shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear when Beca shoots her an incredulous expression. “What?” she whispers, pressing the pencils back into Beca’s hands. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Beca makes sure to grip the pencils extra tight. “I—no, it’s—this is...yeah. This is cool,” she manages to get out, watching dumbstruck once more as Chloe shrugs the robe off her shoulders again.

“Beca! Pencils, please?”

Beca nods slowly, barely registering the request until a second too late. “Right,” she mutters. “Pencils.” She steps backwards, eyes trained on the ripple of muscle that crosses Chloe’s back as she stretches a little before sitting on the block in the middle of the room. “Pencils…” she says faintly, holding out the container blindly.

“I don’t need a pencil,” the artist nearest to her says.

“Neither do I.” Beca blinks. “I mean. Yeah. No. Sorry.” She swings around to the next person. “Pencil?”

***

It’s torture.

A specific kind of torture worse than being sandwiched between two sweaty people on the subway during the summer.

Like, way worse.

Beca forces all Bad Thoughts to the back of her mind because Chloe is her _friend_ and Chloe is obviously working and being professional, but it’s a lot.

It’s a lot for Beca to handle, seeing her best friend-slash-roommate pose in various positions, switching every 10-15 minutes at the whim of the instructor. Naked.

Another thing to add to the list of interesting things that have happened to Beca since moving to New York.

It’s _hot_ in the room too, which Beca really only notices because of the way the lights beat down on her head as she sits in the corner of the room and watches the steady progress of the students all around.

Also because of the way she’s pretty sure she’s been following the slow progress of a bead of sweat on Chloe’s shoulder for the past fifteen minutes. Maybe ten minutes. Beca can’t be certain. She’s just really trying not to look anywhere else because Chloe is standing and facing away from her and the shoulder kind of seems like the safest place to look.

...Even if she _has_ seen it all before.

Beca just kind of wants to be respectful. She’s probably the only loser who’s acting like a kid. Beca can’t even say that she’s _turned on._ She’s just...not used to seeing this much of Chloe at once. Chloe’s teasing lilt echoes pitifully in Beca’s brain like a broken record, except it just grows louder and louder with each replay.

Beca envies everybody else at being able to maintain totally professional detachment as Chloe sits or stands in various poses. They are simply there to work on art and improve their skill level. Beca, unfortunately, has devolved into a sweaty mess, too concerned with _looking_ at Chloe wrong for even a second.

She is startled when her phone buzzes in her hands, signalling the end of the latest block of time. She waves her hand weakly at the instructor, gesturing at her phone.

“Final pose!” Annie chirps, right by Beca’s ear. “We’ll give about five minutes to this last one. I want you to do quick sketches this time, really focusing on the movement in the pose.” She nods at Chloe who flashes a quick smile in return, directed at both the instructor _and_ Beca.

Chloe stretches again before pulling up a chair and settling into it, against the backdrop of the crates and table. She tilts her head back, arching her neck and arm as she goes.

Class is almost over, Beca tells herself. Chloe is on her last pose.

She also happens to be _facing_ Beca.

And she’s _looking right at Beca._ Like, dead on.

Beca shifts in her seat, glancing around uncomfortably. She focuses on the half-drawn sketches that she can see from her vantage point, then back at Chloe who is still _looking at her._

Beca bites her lip, trying to stop herself from mouthing _knock it off_. She manages a tiny grimace. Chloe’s lips twitch, visible even from where Beca is sitting, and she finally looks away.

***

Beca wipes down the desks, sweeps up the pencil shavings, and pushes all the chairs to the side. Annie has to leave early because of a family emergency uptown so Beca agrees to lock up and make sure everything is cleaned up for the weekend. She’s immersed in carefully folding all the easels away, so immersed that she doesn’t realize that Chloe is still there.

“Beca.”

“Jesus!” Beca drops the broom she had been holding in one hand to clutch her chest. “Chloe, what are you still doing here?”

Chloe shrugs, running her hand through her hair before throwing it up into a loose ponytail. She’s dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, robe nowhere in sight. “I got changed and came back. You’re still here.”

“Punishment, remember?”

Chloe laughs. “I had _no_ idea this is what you meant when you told me what happened with Amy.”

Beca forces her face to relax a little. “I mean. Of course. You were,” she gestures vaguely. “Great.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh my God, Chlo, it’s whatever.” Beca means that. “Don’t apologize. I’m not at all mad that you, like, didn’t tell me about this.”

“It’s just a second job,” Chloe continues, looking around in a nervous habit that Beca knows to mean that she’s feeling insecure.

Beca forgets her previous discomfort if only to console Chloe. “Dude, you’re great. It’s all good.”

Chloe smiles, softer this time as she relaxes. “Just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t...uncomfortable,” Beca lies. “I’m not a prude.” Mostly true.

“Nobody said you were.” Chloe drops her bag on the floor and pulls the easel from Beca’s hands. She stacks it neatly with the others. “I...didn’t mind if you looked, or whatever. I mean. You _did._ I saw you.”

Beca feels her entire body light up with embarrassment and she considers immediately protesting that, but it’s pointless. “I didn’t know where to look. Um, I mean. Not at _you._ Just that...I didn’t...yeah. I know it’s not...a sexual thing,” she blurts. “Like it wasn’t for me. I just...wanted to respect you,” she finishes timidly.

“It’s not a sexual thing,” Chloe agrees. “It’s honestly not great up there and I’ve only been doing this for like a month.” She steps a little into Beca’s orbit. One step, then another in line with the thudding of Beca’s heart. “But...I didn’t mind if _you_ looked,” she repeats, slower this time. With distinct emphasis.

“You didn’t?” Beca asks, but her brain and mouth are pretty much moving on auto-pilot at this point. Chloe is _close_ to her. Beca can barely breathe. She has to be dreaming. She probably hit her head the day before when Amy left her for dead and now she’s in a coma.

Chloe kisses her. Beca kind of moves at the same time, so they kind of bump into each other at first, but their lips find each other easily and smoothly.

Beca’s entire body explodes with emotion.

They’re _kissing._

 _Holy fuck_ , Beca thinks. _I love art._

They kiss for a few moments more as Beca’s body slowly catches up to her heart and eventually the need for air becomes too great so she is the first to pull back reluctantly. Chloe exhales through her nose even though her lips are still parted after she separates from Beca. “This isn’t crazy right? Like you have to know that I...like you. I don’t know why it feels so much easier to say that here as opposed to home.”

“I’ve always found you attractive,” Beca says weakly. She swallows, infinitely more attracted to Chloe with clothes on for whatever reason. Or just equally as attracted. “You know this,” she whispers, trailing off.

Chloe blushes, highlighting the light smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose even more. “I mean. I never wanted to assume.”

Beca laughs. It’s absurd to her, thinking for a moment that _Chloe_ would have reason to think that Beca didn’t find her attractive. “Not even being...confident about all that?”

“Not when you seemed totally uninterested in me for years!” Chloe exclaims, but she laughs good-naturedly. “Way to make a girl feel wanted.”

Beca tentatively lifts her hands up to bracket Chloe’s neck. “And what about now? After I kissed you, I mean.”

“You mean _I_ kissed you because I saw how you couldn’t keep your eyes off me,” Chloe corrects while leaning in to brush her nose against Beca’s.

“Shut up,” Beca parrots back, really wanting nothing more than to kiss Chloe again.

So she does.

Beca tilts her head up, pressing her lips against Chloe’s once, briefly, then again, taking care to open her mouth slightly against Chloe’s lips. Chloe groans softly, wrapping one arm around Beca’s back, to hold her close. She’ll blame it on the fact that she hasn’t had sex in months paired with the unintentional sexual tension of waking up time and time again to Chloe’s body pressed against hers, but this kiss instantly makes Beca _wet._

It’s still an incredibly soft kiss, even with all the tongue action Beca’s putting into it. She can’t recall a softer kiss and she wonders if Chloe feels the same. The softness of the kiss still doesn’t mask the heady desperation treading just beneath the surface: the electricity, the light, the swoop in Beca’s stomach when Chloe’s hand palms her ass quickly and firmly, making her jolt.

“Sorry,” Chloe murmurs, moving her hand to a safe location on Beca’s back. She pulls back, having felt Beca tense up. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, I liked it,” Beca says quickly, hoping she doesn’t sound as fucking desperate as she feels because, _embarrassing_ , but she’s really past caring at this point. She’s done “testing the waters” and surges up again to kiss Chloe, to which Chloe responds with gusto.

This kiss is firmer and hungrier. The tongue Chloe pushes into her mouth is unmistakably dirty and wanting and everything that Beca has been craving since she long recognized her attraction to her best friend. As if reading her mind, Chloe tilts her head and _smiles_ against her lips. Beca presses her fingers a little tighter into Chloe’s neck before sweeping up to tangle in Chloe’s hair. Chloe groans at a tug and kisses back for a few moments before she slides a hand up Beca’s arm to gently wrap around Beca’s forearm, tugging her away slowly.

Beca takes a moment to look at Chloe. Her lip gloss is visibly smudged in a way that sends a shiver through Beca, ending somewhere between her legs. Not unlike the swoop in her stomach from earlier. Not unlike the feeling she got when Chloe’s eyes had met hers from across the room while Chloe had been on literal display for the hungry eyes of artists simply painting a veritable work of art.

“Smudged,” Beca comments, thumbing some shine away from Chloe’s mouth. “Messy.” She shivers, feeling Chloe’s soft, plump lower lip give way under the pressure of her thumb.

“Yeah,” Chloe agrees, darting her tongue out to wet her lower lip. “No thanks to you,” Chloe laughs, a little breathlessly. She moves her hands to Beca’s hips, tugging so their bodies are pressed close together. “Seriously, no thanks to you and the way you were looking at me all night.” Chloe’s voice is teasing but there’s some truth to it and they both know it.

The thought that she contributed somehow to Chloe’s state of arousal, even in the slightest, drives Beca _crazy_. Heat coils low in her belly and stirs, never quite ceasing. It makes her head foggy and it makes her mouth dry. She itches to do something—anything—to alleviate the ache she feels between her legs at the simplicity of Chloe’s words.

“How was I looking at you?” she asks, stepping into Chloe’s space again until she’s backing her into the prop table. The very one Chloe had been lying on less than an hour ago. The one they just cleaned. Chloe’s thighs hit the table but she doesn’t budge further, allowing Beca to fully press into her body, feeling every curve align in a completely tantalizing way.

“Like you wanted me,” Chloe breathes. "I saw it. I know you tried to hide it."

“I do want you,” Beca says and it’s the first time she’s ever really said _that_ aloud. She tries to ignore the funny butterflies in her stomach and chest—the ones that don’t really feel like they belong with all the other stuff—and pushes those feelings away for the moment. She’s frustrated and horny and she really just needs Chloe to fuck her right now.

It’s like a starting shot, the heavy exhale that Chloe lets out then. Beca reaches for the bottom of her t-shirt as Chloe tugs her own long-sleeve over her head. It shouldn’t be that hot, seeing how Chloe’s loose ponytail comes apart almost instantly when the shirt pulls at her hair, but it makes Beca want to run her hands through her hair again, so she does. She pulls Chloe in with one hand, using the other to brace against Chloe’s hip while Chloe’s hands immediately move to the button of Beca’s jeans, making quick work of the zipper as well. “Off,” Chloe mumbles between kisses.

At this point, Beca could care less if she actually _is_ dead. And repercussions to their friendship be damned. She’s sure they’ve long eviscerated whatever tentative friendship lines were drawn all those years ago. Beca’s done pretending that she _isn’t_ attracted to Chloe and it’s not like they can deal with this at their unfortunately-shared apartment.

Not that Beca’s even thinking about Amy in the slightest right now, with Chloe’s hands pushing at her jeans hastily after stepping out of her sweats.

“Here?” Beca asks belatedly when Chloe grabs her hand, dragging her fingertips down the flat plane of her stomach.

Chloe smiles into her next kiss, loosening her grip on Beca’s hand when Beca’s fingertips dip below the waistband of Chloe’s underwear. “Here,” she whispers. “I want you.”

That’s convincing enough for Beca and probably the hottest thing Beca’s heard in a really long time. She dips her fingers further, committing to memory all the new sensations she feels against her skin. New areas of Chloe’s skin, never explored. “Fuck, Chlo.” Beca exhales, marvelling at the sight when she rubs her fingers through Chloe’s folds. Chloe is _wet._

Chloe shuts her eyes—squeezes them shut—and whines at the sensation of Beca working her fingers against her clit. Back and forth. Gentle circles. Firm strokes. Soft strokes. The sounds Chloe makes then only fuel Beca further, filling her up with all kinds of pride and arousal. It makes her feel worthy.

Beca is sure she could come like this. Making Chloe come. That would be enough for Beca, if this is all she gets. Chloe’s whispered chants of her name are more than enough.

“That’s so…good,” Chloe mumbles, hips tilting up. She braces herself further on her elbows, tilting her head back and arching her back wantonly as Beca’s fingers finally slips inside her. Beca’s entire body thrums at the sensation of hot, wet heat surrounding her fingers, stretched tightly around them.

She wants to hear Chloe tell her she’s good again, wants to see that her effort pays off and she’s doing what Chloe needs from her. She thrusts down and in, curling her fingers ever so slightly. It’s a weird angle because she’s still kind of braced against the edge of the table while Chloe’s legs half-dangle off it. It has the intended effect, however, as Chloe’s legs come up to first bracket her hips then to hook around her back, pulling Beca in and towards her. Beca yelps, collapsing hard against Chloe’s body. She has to move her hand to brace herself above Chloe, arms now on either side of Chloe’s head as Chloe’s sweat-slicked body rubs against hers.

“Why’d you stop?” Chloe demands hoarsely.

“You…” Words are hard. “You pulled me.”

“Didn’t say you should stop,” Chloe mumbles.

“You pulled me,” Beca repeats, leaning down to nip at Chloe’s lips. It’s intoxicating, this feeling of being so wanted by Chloe Beale. Her cunt aches when Chloe’s thigh slips between her legs to press up teasingly first, then wantonly. Beca rocks her hips down experimentally, biting her lip when Chloe arches an eyebrow at her. It feels like such a natural spin-off from their existing relationship (not the whole fucking-in-an-empty-art-studio part, obviously) that Beca momentarily laments that they _haven’t_ been doing this all along. Shaking her head slightly to rid herself of those thoughts, Beca cranes her neck back down to capture Chloe’s lips in a soft kiss. Chloe hums in approval and cradles the back of Beca’s head before rolling them so Beca is on her back on the table. The air whooshes out of Beca’s chest when Chloe lifts herself atop Beca’s lap, sitting up fully.

“What?” Chloe asks at Beca’s wide-eyed expression. She grabs Beca’s limp hand, bringing it up to her mouth, pressing just the tips past her lips. “I...need you to finish what you started,” Chloe murmurs, licking around Beca’s fingers.

This is probably the hottest thing that Beca’s ever going to experience again, she’s sure, so she quickly snatches her hand back and maneuvers it back between Chloe’s legs, groaning when she encounters the same wet heat she had just been getting familiar with. Chloe’s fingers encircle her wrist loosely while she sinks down further on Beca’s fingers, whimpering a little at the sensation. Beca’s eyes track over every inch of exposed skin she can find, from Chloe’s distinctly hard nipples to the flat plane of her stomach and the slow, steady undulation of Chloe’s hips as she grinds and rocks against Beca’s fingers. Beca experimentally curls and thrusts, eliciting a soft cry from Chloe’s lips. Chloe’s back curves and she braces her hands against Beca’s breasts, rocking faster and harder.

“More,” Chloe groans.

“Yeah,” Beca agrees, breathless by how turned on she is. She wriggles three fingers into Chloe, both of them gasping softly at stretch. Chloe’s hands tighten atop Beca’s breasts, fingers flexing almost painfully against Beca’s skin. Chloe’s jaw drops slightly as she takes in Beca’s fingers completely one final time before she comes apart. Her cunt clenches tight around Beca’s fingers—ridiculously wet—and her entire body stiffens. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Beca breathes out. She palms Chloe’s ass as she grinds out her orgasm, squeezing at the firm flesh greedily.

Chloe chuckles with no real humor before she tucks her hair behind her ears and leans back down to kiss Beca thoroughly. It’s mostly tongue; it’s mostly Chloe’s tongue inside Beca’s mouth while Beca’s fingers are still inside Chloe, so she can’t really complain. She’s never going to complain about this.

“You’re hotter,” Chloe mumbles, nipping along Beca’s jaw. She lifts herself and climbs off Beca’s body.

Beca blinks her eyes open, about to protest _heartily_ at being left high and dry (wet), but Chloe only takes one second after climbing off the table to tug at Beca’s hips (they’re definitely going to have to clean this table again) to drag her forward until her legs are over Chloe’s shoulders and Chloe’s face is pressed tightly between her legs. Beca swears loudly, grabbing tight at the top of Chloe’s head, maybe a bit painfully, when Chloe’s lips wrap tight around her clit. As if Beca hadn’t been totally aware at how neglected and swollen her clit had been up until then, the surge of desire and pleasure that rushes through her makes her black out for about a second before she’s gasping out Chloe’s name and trying to get Chloe’s lips and tongue where she needs her even more.

Chloe seems to get the hint, but she takes a moment to lift her head so her eyes meet Beca’s.

Beca knows that expression. It’s one of Chloe’s slightly-crazed and determined expressions, but mixed with something a little challenging.

Chloe is very obviously going to torture her and enjoy it thoroughly.

Chloe leans forward once more, eyes still trained on Beca’s face to make sure Beca is watching her before she licks a long, deep path through Beca’s folds. Then again, this time ending on her clit which she flicks at playfully with the pointed tip of her tongue. “Like that?” Chloe asks innocently in response to Beca’s unspoken demand for more.

Beca nods eagerly, dropping her chin to her chest to watch Chloe’s progress. She sees the pink of Chloe’s tongue dart out to lick through her again. And again. And again.

It’s ridiculously hot. The air feels thick and heavy, weighing on them like a blanket.

Beca moans, loud and clear. It echoes through the empty studio, studio lights beating down on top of them. There’s a certain tension that runs through her body like a bow string about to snap. It starts at the top of her back and ends with where Chloe’s mouth is on her cunt. Chloe begins to steadily tongue fuck her—nowhere near as close to the pressure or fullness of fingers, but it does the trick, especially with how enthusiastically Chloe does it. Beca thinks she hears her moans stutter, broken-off whimpers and grunts sounding all around.

Pleasure radiates from where Chloe’s mouth still works over her pussy. Beca loses it, gripping the edge of the table so tight that she wonders briefly and deliriously if she’s making an indent on the solid material. It momentarily worries Beca as she squeezes her eyes shut and tips her head back, that all she sees is the most beautiful array of colors behind her eyelids. it feels too fucking good, like the release of all kinds of tension being released from her body after weeks—maybe months—of build-up.

It’s her attraction to Chloe.

It’s the fact that she hasn’t had sex in months.

It’s the move to a new city.

It’s art and music all at once and Beca can do nothing but be swept away by the distinct strokes of Chloe’s tongue against her dripping center.

White hot light bursts behind Beca’s eyelids. She grabs roughly at Chloe’s hair, her entire body seizing up before she shudders with finality against Chloe's mouth.

Chloe keeps working her over, stroking through soft sighs and drenched, sticky skin. Beca trembles, thinking that she could really come again like this. "Wait."

Chloe, to both of their surprise, obeys. She stills, her tongue going stagnant first before she draws away completely, face flushed and lips glistening. Chloe stands up slowly, brushing her hands up Beca’s thighs, stopping midway to rub her thumbs along Beca’s inner thighs, stroking at the soft skin. Brushing teasingly against her cunt. Beca tries not to completely melt in Chloe’s touch as she curls her hand around the back of Chloe’s neck. She tangles her fingers through the damp curls at Chloe’s nape. “Are you okay?" Chloe whispers.

Beca nods, wanting to feel close to Chloe. She tilts her head a little to press a kiss into Chloe’s neck as Chloe leans against her. The post-orgasm haze hovers, not quite dissipating. She used to hate the post-sex intimacy that always lingered, never wanting to feel the bashfulness and nerves and need to feel close to another person. She’s kind of glad she can’t see Chloe’s face and instead focuses on the steadiness of Chloe’s breathing; she focuses on Chloe’s strong grip on her thighs; she focuses on the press of Chloe’s chest against hers.

“Bec?” Chloe asks again, a little more urgently. “Are you okay? I need words."

Beca kisses her, nodding as her lips slide against Chloe’s gracefully. She sighs against Chloe’s mouth, letting the kiss reach its natural end. Chloe's lips still taste distinctly like Beca. Beca thinks she’ll survive. “That was…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” She shakes her head, trying not to dwell on how much has already changed between them. Not just tonight, but over the past year alone.

“We have to figure out how to get Amy out of the apartment more often,” Beca breathes out in the silence between them.

“So she can cause more chaos out in the world?”

“No!” Beca exclaims, headbutting Chloe lightly. “So we can...do this again. Without her, like, listening.” She catches the brief furrow in Chloe’s brow at her words, but it’s gone in a pinch and she can breathe easier again. “If that’s...what you’d want to do again, that is.”

Chloe giggles, breaking some of the tension. “You’re such a good roommate,” she teases, kissing Beca on the nose.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on **[Tumblr](http://beca-mitchell.tumblr.com/)** or **[Twitter](https://twitter.com/shimulacra)**!


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